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Nor spell nor charm,
So, good night, with lullaby.
Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence !
Philomel, with melody, &c.
[Exeunt Fairies. Titania sleeps Enter OBERON, and squeezes the flower on Titania's eyelids. Obe. What thou seest when thou dost wake,
Do it for thy true-love take,
Enter LYSANDER and HERMIA.
And to speak troth, I have forgot our way: We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good,
And tarry for the comfort of the day.
Her. Be it so, Lysander: find you out a bed; For I upon this bank will rest my head.
Lys. One turf shall serve as pillow for us both; One heart, one bed, two bosoms and one troth.
Her. Nay, good Lysander; for my sake, my dear,
Lys. O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence!
Two bosoms interchained with an oath;
Her. Lysander riddles very prettily:
Lys. Amen, amen, to that fair prayer, say I;
But Athenian found I none,
Enter DEMETRIUS and HELENA, running.
Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius.
Hel. O, I am out of breath in this fond chase!
90 For she hath blessed and attractive eyes. How came her eyes so bright ? Not with salt tears :
If so, my eyes are oftener wash'd than hers. | No, no, I am as ugly as a bear;
For beasts that meet me run away for fear:
Hel. Do not say so, Lysander; say not so.
I1O Lys. Content with Hermia! No; I do repent The tedious minutes I with her have spent. Not Hermia but Helena I love: Who will not change a raven for a dove ? The will of man is by his reason sway'd; And reason says you are the worthier maid.
Things growing are not ripe until their season:
Hel. Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born ?
[Exit. Lys. She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there : And never mayst thou come Lysander near! For as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, Or as the heresies that men do leave Are hated most of those they did deceive, So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, Of all be hated, but the most of me! And, all my powers, address your love and might To honour Helen and to be her knight!
[Exit. Eer. [Awaking.] Help me, Lysander, help me! do thy
150 Lysander! what, removed? Lysander! lord! What, out of hearing? gone? no sound, no word?
Alack, where are you? speak, an if you hear;
The wood. Titania lying asleep.
Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, and
STARVEL Bot. Are we all met ?
Quin. Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn-brake our tiring-house; and we will do it in action as we will do it before the duke.
Bot. Peter Quince, -
Bot. There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisby that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself; which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that?
Snout. By’r lakin, a parlous fear.
Star. I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done.
Bot. Not a whit : I have a device to make all well. Write me a prologue; and let the prologue seem to say, we will do no harm with our swords and that Pyramus is not killed indeed; and, for the more better assurance, tell them that I Pyramus am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver: this will put them out of fear.
Quin. Well, we will have such a prologue; and it shall be written in eight and six.